


could you be, would you be, should you be, here with me?

by Laeana



Series: σh darling, we were meant to be. [1]
Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: "Verbal" Abuse, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Best Friends, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Hopeful Ending, Light Angst, Love Confessions, Love/Hate, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:53:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27620969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laeana/pseuds/Laeana
Summary: In a world where the words have a real impact. A true one. The words that your soulmate pronounce, beyond the moral injury, make also appears marks, bruises on your body.Pierre continues to live, collecting the marks.And you know the funniest part? He knows exactly who his soulmate is.
Relationships: Pierre Gasly/Charles Leclerc
Series: σh darling, we were meant to be. [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2019431
Comments: 4
Kudos: 48





	could you be, would you be, should you be, here with me?

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [in the dark](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21337393) by [Laeana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laeana/pseuds/Laeana). 



> featuring : Make me feel like by Saint Motel

A bound, a link. Soulmates are a common thing these days. Some are looking for them, others are not interested in them. It’s not uncommon for people not to end with that destiny. Rebels, refusing a dictated future.

It's not impossible to break the bond after all, to love someone else. Even if the bond will always be stronger. However if you don't know your partner, your feelings don't develop, very simple.

A certain void remains, that's for sure. You don't die of not living with the one labeled as the love of your life.

There remains one exception, however. This is the impact each partner has on the other. Hurtful words, words that have physical impacts. Often showing black marks on the body, bruises.

It has happened that people die from it. Too violent arguments when they were already suffering from injuries and it turned out that this causes their end. Pierre can say that he is a little afraid of it sometimes.

His mark on his wrist, hidden by a simple leather strap, he would like to tear it up, tear it off, and can't help but cherish it. A simple long line, crossed out in the center with a smaller line, lies there, hidden.

And you know the funniest part? He knows exactly who his soulmate is.

A pretty face, messy brown hair, green eyes, a well-formed body, a Monegasque, his best friend. Charles Leclerc.

And they were often together. They progressed together, spent their youth together. He knew it very early, at fifteen. Realizing it was devastating, he always thought his friend knew it but not at all. He was ignorant.

How not to feel such a strong connection between them? He wonders it every day when he gets up. Let's not talk about the pain he felt when he started dating a girl. He wanted to take it back, to let him know that his destiny was anything but women.

He never did.

Charles has always been clear with him, he said he would live without really caring about this story. Day by day. If he did meet his soulmate, he would advise and if he did not meet them, so be it. Simple as a currency.

He always wondered what to do. On the verge of rocking. The passion of the youngest one often hurt him, they had violent arguments. Choosing the right words is an art for his comrade. An art that marked his skin.

He counts the marks on his body. Which are spread out on his back, a few on his chest, his shoulders, none on his arms fortunately. He has a lot, is aware of it. He lets himself be hurt by his impetuous companion and never resolves to do the same.

Their last argument dates from Charles' second place, which he was particularly unhappy with. One reason why the Ferrari driver used him. Maybe too much.

He ran away for the first time. Not bearing, not being able to live it any longer. He always considered the flee not solving anything but he couldn't stand it, he was in too much pain.

And a pretty huge black mark bloomed along his left hip.

When he pushes it, it sometimes hurts. It's not constant, a little strange. Will he die of it one day ?

He wonders how to do it. How to spend a life near the only boy he has ever really loved but who does not know his feelings. He gives in to the race, lets himself go, in the hope that it helps him not to sink.

It works pretty well.

His eyes close. All is not well in his life. There was the demotion, his bitter feeling. Moment for which his Monegasque was there for him. He also realized that the marks could disappear. There is a “reverse” effect.

But apparently their relationship is more defined by arguments than kiss then.

Mexico, the Grand Prix. He's changing since he's finished qualifying and it's not that bad. It's okay honestly, he was afraid to do worse. Sick, little sleep. He still has swollen eyes. With fatigue, he has the impression of constantly hurting his marks.

He removes his suit. Put on some jeans. He is looking for his sweatshirt when he hears the door open behind him. Someone walks in and he doesn't immediately tilt over what that might mean. The intruder hiccups, he turns around

— Pierre, what are ... your marks ?

Max. He takes a moment before remembering the condition of his back and realizing what he saw.

— What are you doing here ?

— I came to get you for ... because Charles was looking for you ... who is it ? Who hurt you so badly ?

His friend approaches to come and touch his marks with his fingertips and he pulls back, as if burnt. He quickly pulls on his sweatshirt and glares at the Dutchman.

— It doesn't concern you. And you better not tell anyone.

He quickly leaves the room, goes up to the center of the paddock where the one he has known for so long is.

— Is everything fine ? I was told you were looking for me ?

— Yes, yes, I just wanted to see how you were. We haven't had much time to see each other lately.

Pierre would be lying to say that it does not affect him. Charles's hand lands on his forearm and the contact ignites him. A spark of hope always remains in him, he never managed to get rid of it.

— Sick. You must know that already. I hope it will be better tomorrow.

— Are you sure it's okay for you to drive ?

Such a worry ... as often, it’s his blue irises against those green, so pretty, of his soulmate.

— Of course. You shouldn't worry so much about me !

— You know I would continue as long as we compete in a sport like this.

It’s one of those sweet, kind moments that characterize the Monegasque sometimes. The latter either has bursts of nervous instability where he will prove to be anything but pleasant, or excess kindness and tenderness towards his relatives before the races. He never knows what he prefers, both make him sick.

— Come on, go back to your team. Surely you have things to see, don't you ?

The youngest one hesitates for a moment before coming to take him in his arms. He almost whistles, feeling the bruise on his hip ease a little then the other driver backs up and walks away with a hesitant smile.

He sighs before returning to his own side. He must collect his things in his room where he left in a hurry so as not to have to confront Max. Now he has to go back.

This time it's not the Dutchman who’s here but Daniel and he raises an eyebrow in surprise because, come on, in the possible and imaginable people, he would not have thought of Daniel. He likes him, it's almost impossible not to like the Aussie. But they are not close at all.

— Daniel, hello. Why are you here ?

He took the opportunity to repack his things in his bag quickly, eager to return to the hotel to catch up on his missing sleep.

— To talk to you about your soulmate, Pierre.

— And could I know how that concerns you ? Could Max learn to be quiet too ?

— It's Charles, isn’t it.

A clear observation. He freezes, biting his lip in frustration.

— Max does not suspect it, he is not observant enough but I saw it. Your reactions, your bound.

— I don't understand what you're talking about. He doesn't even know it's me.

— That's what I assumed too. To have so many marks, either he wasn't taking care of you, or he wasn't aware of it.

With his bag under his arm, he sighs. He doesn't like being in the open like that, he doesn't like people worrying about his problems, especially only now. He liked to talk about it from time to time with Romain, because he was the only other Frenchman on the grid, it made him have some confidence in him but that is all.

— He isn’t aware. It's better that way, surely. I don't care about marks.

— You can die of it if you go on like that, you don't care about that too ? Don't you think he would like to know ?

— I don't even know why you care about this, damn it !

He leaves the room, Daniel on his heels. He wonders how far the latter will follow him.

— Look, you're both young. And I have affection for you. I just want to help you, does it sound that weird ?

No. Because that characterizes the Aussie in his great gentleness. He runs a hand over his face, tired. He must ... he must really go to sleep. He feels his whole body sag as time goes by. He can't really stand it.

— You're okay ?

— I just need to ... go get some rest. Sorry. We can talk about it later maybe.

— Yes of course.

When he reaches his bed, he collapses in it unceremoniously and the next day seems to come so quickly. He throws up once, when he wakes up, has trouble swallowing anything afterwards. He slept eight hours, feels like he had three. Awesome.

The race is not looking so good. He oscillates. Finishes ninth by chance and luck when Hulkenberg crashes and his teammate is penalized for.

Get out of his car, do some interviews, change. It almost requires too much energy. He will surely sleep on the return plane, he knows that. He has seen the results of the top ranking, knows that Charles will be far from being satisfied with his result so he avoids him at all costs.

— Your hip mark has faded.

He jumps. Damn, if Max could stop going in and out of this room like a mill.

— Contacts with your soulmate have two effects. They can hurt you like heal you.

— I know.

The younger one’s grimace did not escape him. A question quickly pops into his mind.

— Do you have any marks too ?

— Some.

— Why did you tell Dan about this ?

— I don’t know. Thought he'd be in a better position to help you, or that at least you'd rather see him. I don't know, he's more ... warm. He is surely a better confidant.

Pierre raises an eyebrow, quite surprised. He knows that the Dutchman can have harsh words on himself sometimes but it's not something he expects to see so easily.

— Ideally, I would have preferred to tell no one.

— Do you know how many marks you have on your body ? Have you already counted them ?

His eyes close. He would like to be able to answer no to that question. Not having had times when he was at his lowest and wondering over and over again why he was going through this.

— Fourteen. It’s variable.

— It's too much especially.

— How ?

— Three.

— Who is he ?

A gloomy look covers his comrade's face and he gently pats him on the shoulder, without looking further.

— You know, you should fix your problems too.

— It's less urgent than you. You shouldn't-

— Pierre ! Are you here ?

Charles's voice makes him freeze. He slowed while starting this discussion. He should have hurried. Max feels his discomfort and puts a hand on his arm.

— You don't have to go. Just because he's him doesn't mean you have to do this.

— Other than my soulmate, he's my best friend, Max. I can't do this to him.

The Dutchman puts an arm around him in comfort and that's when his love enters the room. He hugs the RB pilot, aware and touched by his concern.

— I'll go, Max.

— Pierre ...

— It's not trivial. Three. You also have to talk about it.

They exchange one last look before he starts following his Monegasque who looks a little angry, jealous ? A smile almost stretches her lips at the thought.

— Where are you taking me ?

— I don't know, I ... I needed to see you I think.

It starts off too well. He knows it's not going to end so well. There is necessarily something behind this argument. Something, anything, a goal. They stop near the entrance to the paddock. Finding an empty room. As usual.

He sinks into a chair that hangs out in a corner. He doesn't know if he's ready for this conversation. Physically and psychologically. He will try to endure it.

— I think I made a mistake in breaking up with Giada.

No. Why come back to this kind of subject when they have just finished a Grand Prix ? Couldn't he be spared a little ?

— You really brought me here to talk about your romantic relationships, Charles?

— I think I'm relying on you too much. You have your own things to deal with and I'm often there at the start of the race to distract you. I think we should disassociate a little more. We should see each other less, I guess.

He stands up abruptly, his chair crashes behind him and he grips the table until his knuckles are white to endure the searing pain tearing him apart in his left hip. The same mark, bruise that had disappeared that reappears.

— Pierre ? What is happening ? You're okay ?

The other driver comes closer to him but he can't even focus on that. His jaw tightens. He doesn't care about his worry.

— Honestly, fuck you, Charles. Fuck you.

He takes a deep breath, trying to focus on anything other than his pain.

— At times like this, I wish I would never see you again. I've just had enough. I wish I could hate you, so much. Loathe you.

He meets the wide open green eyes of surprise probably of his soulmate and takes the opportunity to quickly slip away.

He himself is surprised. His injury does not lessen. He gasps and struggles to walk, blinded by the power of the impact. He feels like it's not going to stop.

— Ah, Pierre. I was looking for Charles. Have seen- ... are you okay ?

He wants to respond positively and continue on his way, groping against the wall. However, it’s clear that Sebastian is not blind. His breath is erratic. He collapses. It’s the German that catches him up.

— You're hot.

He is half-dragged by the older one who makes him lie down on a sofa. He doesn't even know where he is. Everything becomes blurry.

— Have you been hurt again ? Answer Pierre. It is important.

Daniel. When did he enter the room ? He ended up nodding vaguely, having trouble concentrating.

— H-Hip ... left.

Someone is stroking his hair. Is it Max? Damn, he hates his current state. He feels incapable. He gets up with difficulty to get to a sitting position. The two older drivers are talking right in front of them.

— What do we do, Seb ? This is bad enough. I don't think we can do much about it.

— Go get Charles.

— W-What ?

— You know he's the only one who would be able to help him now, so go get him. I don't like it either, but at this point it will end up snapping between our fingers.

Pierre wants to protest too but his voice remains blocked in his throat. He feels tired. What would that change, one more thing, one less ? His weekend is already so bad.

He grimaces when the hand in his hair disappears and the presences in the room leave him. When there is no one left except him and Charles who comes in and rushes to his side.

— Hey, Pierre, what's wrong ?

He wants to laugh ironically because the other drivers have brought him but haven't explained to him what is wrong. He loves his situation. So much.

— Answer me honestly. Are we soulmates ?

In his head he panics for a moment, wondering how he came to guess. Then he lets go, releasing the weight of an eight-year-old secret.

— Yes.

What he expects less is that the Monegasque throws himself on his lips, stealing a long and sweet kiss.

— Charles !

— What ? I am sorry. So sorry. I just realized it. Forgive me.

He watches his companion without further understanding before he sees the dark mark that adorns the latter's forearm. Did he hurt him in turn ?

— I didn't think it could be you. And yet it could only be you. You are the only one who supports me on a daily basis. You are the only one still there. I was hoping that ...

Their gazes anchored in one another. Green and blue. He feels like he has never seen the other pilot look at him with such eyes, even though it seems quite familiar.

— ... that it would be you ?

Tears run down his cheeks by themselves. He doesn’t know why he is crying, he knows that it is a great feeling of relief, of happiness that invades his chest.

His best friend is watching him with worried eyes, wide open, panicked. He laughs softly because it looks adorable to him. His companion is so adorable.

— You're okay ? Why are you crying ? Did I do something ?

— No. No it's just ... it's been a long time since I've been so happy. Knowing it, being the only one to know it, was a heavy burden.

— You should have told me earlier.

— You didn't seem to care, you seemed to prefer to live from day to day. I didn’t know what to do.

His Monegasque has a creased face before hugging him a little harder.

— I was your friend before being your soulmate, right ? I can't stand the idea ... I hurt you a lot.

He would like to protest but it would not be fair. Because the truth is hiding in the midst of all these marks that his body is wearing right now. The other driver gives him a pleading look.

— Take off your shirt, please.

— Charles ...

— Please.

Pierre sighs before grabbing the edges of his sweatshirt and pulling it over his head. The contact of the cold air on his bare skin makes him shiver but he has no time to complain because, already, his comrade's fingers are on his back, brushing the marks.

The silence lengthens. He lets his soulmate do it. The touches are so soft, caring, he’s handled like a fragile object. He just stays that way, until Charles abruptly pulls back and until he hears a muffled sob.

He turns around, surprised enough, to see the youngest one from behind, shoulders slumped, posture defeated, body shaking.

He gets up and comes to hug his love from behind in his arms.

— I don't deserve you, Pierre. I don’t deserve you. Fourteen times ... you have suffered fourteen times because of me. I was oblivious, reckless. I don’t have ...

His voice breaks over the last words. He feels him surrender to his embrace and slowly calm down.

— We're soulmates, Charlie. It's something we have to face. You were for me when I was feeling bad, right ? This is surely the most important.

— No. No because you were there for me too ! And I was never able to see it. To see you.

And when the Monegasque faces him correctly, tears shine in his clear eyes filled with dismay, guilt.

— That's why I didn't want you to see them.

The other driver shakes his head before launching into a more intimate gesture, he leans slightly and comes to deposit light kisses on his left hip where the mark still sits. He immediately feels himself blushing, almost shocked by this action.

— What are you doing ?

Charles doesn't respond and neither does he lift his head, pressing it against his abdomen.

— Sorry, sorry, sweetheart. I'm so sorry.

He strokes his boy's brown hair tenderly and sighs.

— You already said it, you know ?

— But how do I know what to do for you to forgive me ? I couldn't even express how bad I feel for hurting you all this time so ...

He rolls his eyes, annoyed by the same tune. He knew his friend well, knew he would react that way if he found out.

— Raise your head.

— ... What ?

— Raise your head.

The Ferrari driver looks up slowly, still appearing to be undecided. 

He comes to cut short these deliberations by abruptly placing his lips on his. Deeply. 

Their second kiss. 

He lets himself go to his deeper emotions and slips his hands under the hoodie of the youngest one who moans softly, surprised.

— Pierre ? 

He hums. He lets himself go to discovery. And it's as if, suddenly, his companion lets go of his inhibitions and follows his desires, since the latter puts his arms around his neck in a seductive gesture.

But he's not doing anything serious. He is content with caresses and touches, taking his time. He needs it. 

— Charles ? Did you know that if only soulmates can cause such marks to each other, they can also heal them ?

— Wh-What ?

— Look at your forearm.

His best friend pulls back, cutting short their moment, to check on where his injury was. As Pierre sensed it, this one disappeared. It disappeared because they made several contacts.

— Can I cure you ? Can I do it, really ? 

— Uh, I guess ? 

Once again, Charles throws himself at his neck. He receives it with difficulty. The other driver is more enterprising than earlier, his mouth running through his chest, he stops just as he begins to unbutton his jeans.

— Pierre ? I have to tell you ... this is my first time. With a man I mean. I would do my best but I ...

He puts his hand gently on the cheek of the one facing him, smiling.

— Don’t hurry. Then anyway, we should probably get out of here. I don't think we can be gone any longer. And ...

He grimaces, remembering.

— You kissed me when I was sick. I don't think it was a good idea.

The Monegasque shrugs his shoulders and, when they both get up, kisses him again. He retrieves his sweatshirt, puts it back on. He knows they will probably have to talk about it in more detail.

Of all that this means, of what the years have caused damage, other than the simple marks. Forgive. Take away the guilt. Two important stages that they still have to conquer but he supposes ... he supposes that they have time in front of them. Now.

— Can I come to your hotel tonight ? Well, if you don't ... leave right away ?

Surprised, he nods almost immediately. Charles has a shy little smile, which stands in stark contrast to the attitude he was having a few minutes earlier. 

— I'll send you the address. But you should go I think ? Sebastian was looking for you earlier.

— Oh okay. Yes. See you later ?

Still hesitant. Too hesitant. However, they say goodbye with a kiss and he remains a little frozen, dreamy, even though the door has closed. Even if he is now alone. 

As he leaves the room, he finds Max waiting for him at the side, leaning against the wall, a calm look on his face. He thinks he saw Max and Daniel leaving the room together but he is not sure of what he saw, through the haze of pain.

— So what are you going to do ? About your bound I mean.

— I'll keep it of course. Charles is my friend, my soulmate. I would say that I didn't hold onto this relationship all these years to ultimately lose it. And also ...

Hope lights his face.

— ... he's the only one who can cure me anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> here it is. My soulmate au. Setted in 2019, since that's the period where I wrote it. I try to be as fast as possible, I do hope you like it!
> 
> tumblr : laeana


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